Hobson’s face had become a livid hue, and Scott detected a sudden movement of his right hand towards his desk.

“None of that!” he cried, warningly, at the same time springing quickly upon him with two well-aimed blows, one of which knocked a revolver from Hobson’s hand, while the other deposited him in a heap upon the floor.  While the latter was recovering from the effect of the stunning blow he had received, Scott picked up the revolver and, having examined it, slipped it into his pocket, saying,-

“I will keep this for a while as a souvenir of our interview.  It may be needed as evidence later.”

Hobson crawled to his feet and stood cowering abjectly before Scott, rage written on every lineament of his face, but not daring to give it expression.

“Who in the devil are you, anyway?” he growled.

“That is none of your business whatever,” Scott replied, seizing him by the collar and dragging him to the door.  “The only thing for you to do is to unlock that door as expeditiously as possible, asking no questions and making no comments.”

With trembling fingers the wretch complied, and Scott, still retaining his hold upon his collar, reached the door of the outer room, where, with a final shake, he released him.

“Wait a moment,” Hobson whispered, eagerly, half-paralyzed with fear, while his eyes gleamed with malign hatred.  “You’ve got no hold on me by anything I’ve said, and you’ve no proof of that Carroll business, either.”

Scott looked at him an instant with silent contempt.  “You cowardly scoundrel! all I have to say to you at present is, be careful how you interfere with me!  I’m only sorry I soiled my hands with you, but I’ll do it again if necessary; and the next time you will fare worse!” and, opening the door, he passed quickly through the outer room, conscious of the amazed stare of the office boy, who had overheard his last words.  Hobson did not attempt to follow him, but paced up and down his room, trembling with fear and rage combined, and vainly striving to imagine who his visitor might be.  At last he sat down to his desk and began to write rapidly, muttering to himself,-

“I half believe — only that he’s too young — that he is some hound over here trying to scent out the whole thing.  But,” he added, with an oath, “whoever he is, if he crosses my track he’ll be likely to follow Hugh Mainwaring before long, that’s all!”

CHAPTER XII

X-RAYS

On the morning following Scott’s interview with Hobson, he awoke at an early hour, vaguely conscious of some disturbing influence, though unable to tell what had awakened him.  He lay for a moment recalling the events of the preceding day, then suddenly remembered that this was the day fixed for the funeral of Hugh Mainwaring.  None of the servants were astir about the house, but Scott soon became conscious of the